


Seekers Shorts

by talesofsymphoniac



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protective Siblings, Siblings, that's it that's what i write: ships that pine and siblings that protecc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsymphoniac/pseuds/talesofsymphoniac
Summary: A collection of oneshots I wrote about the DnD campaign I'm in, not for general readership so much as having a nice place where they're all together.





	1. Grunka/Eindle

In the dwarven nation of Cad’halash, in the center of a certain dwarven city which had no canonical name as of the time of this writing, stood a temple dedicated to Torm. Every day, dwarves would come in and out of the temple: whether for matters of personal worship, or to seek the aid of the head priest, or merely to admire the workmanship of the building itself, the temple was open to all, the large statue of Torm inside the main hall watching over all of them.

As far as Eindle Lightbrow knew, it was an evening like any other. She and her brother, Sangren, had spent the day attending to the temple, assisting the head priest with sundry matters that came up. Here and there, regular visitors of the temple stopped to speak with her or her brother for a moment before going on with their day.

As the hour grew later, the evening worshippers began filing out, the head priest following after the last of them. The building was empty, now, save for she and Sangren: as the nave had emptied, they had not prepared to leave, but had instead begun their last tasks of the night. Eindle swept the floors while he dusted, and then they switched, Sangren mopping the newly-swept floor while Eindle polished the various sacred artifacts on display. All this was done wordlessly, with the ease and efficiency that came with years of routine.

But unlike many other nights, tonight, Eindle found herself distracted, growing more restless the later it became.

“She’s running late today,” Sangren observed, the words echoing in the vast chamber.

Embarrassed, Eindle snapped her eyes away from the entryway for the dozenth time in as many minutes. Though it was already gleaming, she ran her cloth over Torm’s golden gauntlet once more.

“She’s probably busy,” she said with a shrug.

Her brother hummed. A vague agreement, but there was a knowing tone to it, too. Most likely he had seen through her attempt at nonchalance-- Sangren knew her better than anyone, including, at times, herself-- but he left it at that, which she was grateful for.

“Well, I’m done here,” he said a few moments later, surveying the newly-mopped stone of the temple floors. “You ready to go?”

“Oh.” Eindle looked guiltily at the work still ahead of her. It wasn’t much, only the last of the tables that needed wiping down, but the fact was that most days, they finished almost exactly in sync with each other. Her stalling must be obvious. “Almost.”

Sangren hesitated. When Eindle met his eyes, he was staring at her thoughtfully, his brow creased with concern. Just as it looked like he was about to say something, he seemed to change his mind, shaking his head. “I’ll see you at home, then,” he said with a short nod.

Eindle nodded, and her brother made his way out with a quick farewell.

When the tables were finished, Eindle’s eye drifted over the empty chamber, searching for anything else she could busy herself with. She was lingering, she admitted, and it was silly of her, but then again, she really had been meaning to straighten up the storage closet in the back for a while, anyway.

The task was mindless enough to go by quickly; spare vestments were refolded and neatly stacked away, candles and other items of worship were sorted into their own piles, and random trash that had cluttered up the space over time was put in a bag to be cleared out. Eindle had just finished sorting some miscellaneous records by date when, at last, she heard a familiar voice ringing through the hall.

“Eindle? Are you still here?”

“In the back!” Eindle called, standing on her tiptoes to place the records back on the tallest shelf of the storage closet.

Grunka had already reached her by the time she had turned around to go meet her. 

She stood in the doorway, and the first thing Eindle noticed was that she looked harried. Her face was ruddy and a bit sweaty, her golden hair beginning to frizz out of its bun. Her breathing was a bit heavy, like she had been running. None of this was necessarily unusual-- Grunka often arrived at the temple after her training, and she worked plenty hard-- but then there was the look in her eyes, frantic in a way that Eindle rarely saw her.

“There you are,” she was saying, a bit out of breath. “I thought I might have missed you, but I ran into Sangren and he said you were still here.”

Eindle frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh. Ah,” Grunka said, apparently realizing how scattered she looked. “Yeah,” she said quickly, relaxing her stance and offering a reassuring smile that Eindle in no way believed. “Everything’s fine. How are you?”

It wasn’t the most convincing of deflections, not with Grunka still out of breath, or her nervous smile that only grew more strained the longer Eindle stared. “Did something happen?” she asked, more insistent.

Grunka bit her lip, then laughed: not her genuine laugh, but something more wry, and deeply exhausted. “You could say that,” she admitted. She paused, collecting her thoughts. Eindle grew more concerned with each second of silence that passed, sensing Grunka must be working up to something important.

Finally, she spoke, starting very slowly. “My parents have been… distant, all week.”

Eindle nodded, unsurprised. Grunka and her parents had been bickering quite a bit in recent months.

“Then, this morning, at breakfast…” Again, Grunka hesitated. “My mother said she’d been asking around. And… and if I’m still set on leaving Cad’halash, there’s a party of merchants leaving tomorrow I could go with.”

Eindle gaped. “Tomorrow?” she echoed. “But that’s-- that’s ridiculous! That’s hardly any notice at all, you couldn’t possibly--” She cut herself off. Because even as she heard herself speak, she realized she was wrong: Grunka could. It was ridiculous, and it was absurd, but Grunka was stubborn and determined, and she could. And what’s more, from Grunka’s expression, she would.

Eindle’s heart seemed to sink in her chest. “Tomorrow?” she said again, her voice small, sounding distant to her own ears.

Grunka pursed her lips. “I’m sure they expected me to get scared off, but I…” She looked away. “I called her bluff,” she admitted.

Eindle blinked, unable to speak, unsure what she would say even if she could, unsure how she even felt.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t known of Grunka’s goals. They had talked about it for months, going over each one of the reasons time and time again. Grunka had wanted this, and Eindle had agreed with her, but it had been months of convincing and persuading and arguing with no end in sight, and now, just like that, Grunka was leaving tomorrow. Eindle wasn’t prepared for this. How could she have been?

It hardly felt real, but there they were, still standing in the storage closet, as Eindle grappled with the fact that tomorrow, one of them would not be here.

“Vek has been helping me prepare all day,” Grunka was saying. “He’s been a lifesaver. But, well, that’s why I’m late. I wanted to… to tell you.”

Dimly, Eindle felt herself nod. Still reeling from the shock, but now thinking of the alternative… she imagined finding out that Grunka had already left a few days after the fact, overhearing it like so much perishioner’s gossip. The thought hit her like a punch to the gut.   
“Eindle…” At the sound of her own name, Eindle saw Grunka’s face come back into focus. She had stepped forward, and Eindle suddenly felt the wetness building in her eyes. “Are you okay?” Grunka asked gently. Her expression flickered with guilt.

Eindle wiped at her eyes, embarrassed again. “S-sorry.” She shook her head. “I mean, I should be asking you that. Are you okay?”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t had enough time to think about it to worry,” Grunka said, her lips turning up into an attempt at a grin that wobbled quickly. She was clearly more nervous than she wanted to let on, and maybe that was what pushed Eindle to take another step forward and pull Grunka into a hug.

At first, she stiffened with surprise-- they’d never been particularly touchy, between them-- but it passed quickly. Her strong arms wrapped tightly around Eindle’s waist. A few tears slid down her cheeks, and she felt Grunka sniffle as well, but at least the hug was reassuring. Eindle wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Perhaps it should have been awkward, how long they hugged, but Grunka didn’t let her go, and Eindle was unwilling to pull back so soon.

“I’m glad you get to go,” she mumbled into Grunka’s shoulder. It was true. She had helped Grunka outline the reasons, shaping arguments and counterarguments over the course of months. What had started as a shared curiosity about the world outside the dwarven nation had turned into something deeper: an argument for the importance of gaining knowledge from many places, of understanding the world in which one lived, of trusting that there were reasons for Torm to guide a young warrior away from her homeland. No, Eindle had been convinced of Grunka’s plan from the beginning; perhaps before Grunka herself had been bold enough to voice it.

“I’m sorry it’s so spur of the moment,” Grunka said, drawing back.

Eindle shook her head. “It can’t be helped. Who knows how long you’d have to wait for another chance?” Grunka nodded, and silence fell between them. “Do you… need any help?” Eindle asked, when it seemed neither of them knew what else to say. “Getting ready?”

Grunka’s eyes widened, and she shook her head decisively. “No, no, I couldn’t ask that of you,” she said quickly, the way she did when she feared she was overstepping. “Vek and I already took care of most of it, anyway. Although…” she hesitated, eyes flickering to the ground and quickly back to Eindle.

“What?”

Grunka smiled that same nervous smile as before. “I’ve been too busy to eat anything since breakfast. I know it’s late, but do you want to go find something to eat?” Without giving Eindle a chance to answer, she added quickly: “I figure I don’t want to go home yet and give my parents a chance to change their minds, you know?”

Eindle felt her lips curve upward. She wasn’t sure where Grunka’s skittishness had come from, but there was something charming about it, nonetheless. “Right,” she agreed. “Well, you should definitely eat.” Grunka visibly brightened at her words, making Eindle smile wider. “Let me just take this--”

Eindle moved towards the bag of refuse she had been clearing out of the closet, only to be intercepted.

“I’ve got it,” said Grunka cheerfully.

* * *

Despite the late hour, there were still a few places to sit down and order a meal, and it didn’t take long for the pair of them to make their way to such an establishment. 

There was something distinctly odd about walking around the city with Grunka. It wasn’t often that they were able to spend much time together outside of the temple-- that was just how things worked out. It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily; the temple she and her family helped look after may as well have been Eindle’s second home. It was her space-- their space-- in a way that the rest of the world couldn’t be. Still, Eindle thought there was something nice about a night in the city, something new and exciting.

They were hardly the only ones still out and about-- a few recognized Grunka as they passed, and a few more recognized Eindle. A few waved as they passed, and a few more walked up to say a quick hello. No one, however, mentioned Grunka’s plans for the following day. “Does anyone else know about…?” Eindle trailed off, not long after they sat down in the corner of the restaurant.

Grunka shook her head. “Who knows who my parents have mentioned it to, but I’ve only told you, Vek, and Sangren.”

“Sangren?”

“Yeah. I caught him outside the temple as he was headed home. He told me where you were, said he had to get home, so we… said our goodbyes then.” She couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of her voice. 

Eindle wondered at her brother. He couldn’t have been in that much of a rush to get home. Well, that wasn’t so odd, was it? He and Grunka were friends, but not so close as she and Eindle were. Perhaps he had wanted to let Grunka break the news on her own. 

As Eindle thought, Grunka broke into a more genuine smile, sadness slipping away. “Did that little girl come in again this week?” she asked.

It was a complete change of subject, and it took Eindle a moment to recall what Grunka was talking about. There was indeed a little girl who had been coming to the temple on her own, recently, apparently to sit in the back pew and blush whenever Sangren looked her way. Eindle and Grunka had been having a great time teasing the usually-stoic Sangren about it, last time Grunka had come to visit them.

It wasn’t what she’d expect Grunka to want to talk about on the eve of her journey into the great unknown, but maybe the normalcy of it was the point. In any case, Eindle told her about how she’d spoken with the child, gotten her name. Her parents were apparently relatively well-known artisans, and Eindle had spotted quite a few doodles that would no doubt serve to embarrass her brother all the more terribly. That was how they spent the next few hours, laughing and talking and joking until both of them had entirely forgotten what the next day would bring. 

It couldn’t have lasted forever, though, and eventually their words petered out, and the pair of them looked at their long-since empty plates and realized how late it had become, how even the latest night-owls were beginning to make their way home.

Grunka walked her home, the walk back toward the temple much quieter and much heavier. Eindle felt every step almost physically, each pace like another trickle of sand through an hourglass. It didn’t take long before she couldn’t stand the silence of it, and so Eindle finally asked the question that she had kept herself from asking all night.

“When do you think you’ll come home?”

Were quiet, but they seemed much louder in the stillness of the night. Grunka didn’t reply right away. Eindle counted ten more steps-- ten steps closer to home-- before she spoke.

“I’m not sure. I guess that depends on what it is I find.” Two more steps. “I… I’ll figure out how to get word back home, when I can.”

Eindle nodded. They had reached the temple once again. Eindle’s home was only a few buildings beyond it.

“And of course,” Grunka continued, “when I come home, I’ll tell you about all of it. Everything.”

It was a promise she had made many times already, but she said it now with such a grave determination that Eindle couldn’t help smiling. “I’m looking forward to it,” she agreed. A few more paces took them into the garden that decorated the temple grounds.

Eindle hummed thoughtfully. “What time do you leave, tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning,” Grunka said. “Early,” she grumbled.

“Ah,” Eindle said, any hope of perhaps wishing her friend farewell in the morning quickly and quietly tucked away. “If I’d have known you were leaving sooner, I would have gotten you some kind of going-away present. Something to remember me by, you know.”

Grunka laughed wryly. “Yes, I’m certainly going to forget all about my best friend before the week’s end.”

_ Best friend.  _ Eindle’s cheeks warmed at the words. Of course it was true, but it was still touching. Neither of them had ever said it out loud, before. She would have remembered; the pleased fluttering feeling in her stomach would have been difficult to forget.

Grunka coughed, and in the dim lights that kept their path lit, her face seemed a bit redder than usual, as well. “That is, it’s okay, Eindle. I’m just glad I got to see you.”

Eindle hummed, and her eyes flickered down to the gardens they were still passing. An idea struck her, and she stopped in her tracks, taking a few steps toward the edge of the path and kneeling down to examine the dirt bed.

The landscaping outside the temple was carefully maintained to be as beautiful as the interior. Still, a person who had lived their whole life aboveground might not have recognized it as a garden: the beds were primarily decorated, not with plants, but with careful arrangements of finely colored stone. There were some living things, like clumps of mushrooms scattered about, and some beds of a moss that didn’t require sunlight for sustenance, which Eindle had knelt down to study.

Very few flowers could thrive underground, but there were a few, most requiring very specific conditions and a lot of care. That was what made the moss important; it provided the nutrients for another plant to grow, even without sunlight. Eindle quickly found what she was looking for; the subtle blooms of pink and white growing out of the bed of moss. Eindle reached for one of the blossoms, delicately separating it from its fleshy stalk.

Flower in hand, she stood, turning back to Grunka, whose eyes grew wider as she saw what Eindle held in her hands. 

Eindle grinned, pleased to have surprised her, and held out her gift. “May Torm watch over you during your journey,” she said. The standard blessing had never been so meaningful, before.

Grunka took the white flower in her palm. “Are you sure that’s allowed?” she wondered. She brushed one of its soft petals with the tip of her finger, as gingerly as if it might crumble at the slightest touch.

“I’m the one who planted them,” Eindle pointed out, her smile turning a bit devious. “I can certainly pick one.”

It wasn’t entirely true, really, but not even the head priest was such a stickler as to be counting out individual flowers in the garden.

Grunka laughed. “Alright, then. Thank you.” Again, she considered the blossom in her hand, before reaching up, pulling out one of the pins that had been holding her hair back in its bun. After a bit of fiddling, she had attached the flower to the pin and tucked it back into her hair, casting Eindle a smile when she’d finished. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

It really was a lovely flower.

The pair of them continued past the gardens, a little happier, a little more at ease, at least they found they had, at last, come to the end of the road. Inevitably, they came to stand together in front of Eindle’s home. The windows were dark; no doubt Sangren was already asleep, along with the rest of the household. They stood outside, knowing the time had come to part, but wanting to stretch out their time just a few moments longer.

“I’ll miss you,” Grunka said softly, breaking the silence that had once again fallen between them.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Eindle took a breath. “But you’ll do great. You’ll make us proud,” she said resolutely, locking eyes with Grunka. “I know it. Even if not everyone has realized it yet. You will.”

As she spoke, Eindle’s gaze never left Grunka’s face. She saw her friend freeze, eyes wide. She saw the moment when the words hit, when her brown eyes filled with the tears she had been trying so hard to suppress. A second later, Eindle found herself wrapped in a bear hug, and was nothing but glad for it. She hugged her back just as tightly, letting her cheek rest against the other girl’s shoulder.

“Be safe,” she whispered.

“You too,” Grunka said thickly. She pulled away, wiping at her eyes, though she stayed near. “I’ll see you later,” she said seriously.

Eindle nodded.  _ Not goodbye. Just until next time. _ Who knew what surprises might await their next meeting? “I’ll look forward to it.”

One more shared smile. One more hug. One more goodnight.

And then Grunka was gone.

* * *

A day later and a few miles upwards, a circle of dwarves would huddle closer to the fire, the better to avoid the freezing wind. Grunka would scribble a few words in the journal in her lap as another strong gust of wind bellowed, threatening to chase away the flower still tucked into her hair. She’d catch it in her gloved hand and look down at it for a moment. The journal would be opened once more, and then shut, the precious bloom preserved carefully between its pages.


	2. Mags & Orsic

Walking through the royal district of Port Princane, an onlooker would almost never have been able to guess that in the past two weeks there had been attempted assassination of the king and a seige on the ball afterwards, revealing traitors in their midst. Mags could tell, though; while most were doing their best to go about the day’s activities normally, there was something oppressive about the atmosphere. It was hard to be relieved, knowing things could so easily have gone another way.

But maybe that was just her.

She was seated in the living room the newly-christened Seekers had been provided with, watching the chaos that seemed to unfurl around them at all times. Calum and Orsic were engrossed in conversation, naturally; Calum gestured enthusiastically while Orsic nodded along, stroking the fluffy cat that had jumped into his arms not long after their arrival. Mags couldn’t hear exactly what they were talking about, however, since Lieu’s laughter rang loudly from the other end of the living room, where Grunka, Yael, and the quiet one-- Jirro-- also stood, having an animated conversation of their own. Grunka had closed her eyes, exasperated, and Yael looked torn between tired and reluctantly amused. Jirro stood demure, looking innocently oblivious to the whole thing, though after the ball Mags knew not to discount that one’s ability to be just as much of a troublemaker. In another corner of the room, Sashi casually strummed at his viol, never joining any conversation fully but managing to keep an eye on it all, throwing in a joke or comment here and there.

It was loud, unrestrained, but there was honest affection between them all, and their cheerfulness was just as genuine. They were taking their victory whole-heartedly, and Mags could hardly begrudge them for it, especially when she saw how thoroughly Orsic had been wrapped up in the atmosphere. Even setting aside Orsic’s increasingly obvious infatuation with Calum, it was clear that the rest of the Seekers had grown attached to him, as well, talking and joking with him as if he were one of their own.

It was good, Mags thought. Orsic was hardly a shut-in, but he was certainly quiet, and it was nice to see him surrounded by friends. It was good to see him enjoying himself, too, after the past few months.

At least one of them was having a good time.

Mags had spent most of the visit sitting quietly in the corner, and her friends-- she could call them her friends, too, right?-- seemed content to let her be. A few times, she caught a concerned glance from Grunka or Yael, but each time she cast them an unbothered smile until it passed and they were distracted by something else.

That was just fine with Mags. She’d rather not be worried about at all-- just allowed to do her job, pay their way through the ball, and then sit to the side and watch them all enjoy themselves with her brother, smiling and laughing even when she couldn’t.

Because, truly, she couldn’t. In the past few months, she had learned a lot. One of those things was that she could fake her way into appearing to be an effective and competent governor. Appearing happy, she had discovered, was another matter entirely.

At last, reluctantly, the time came for them to part ways. There were hugs for Orsic, and even a few for Mags, much to her own surprise. For the briefest moment, she felt a smile at her lips.

And then she and Orsic were on the ferry home, given privacy in the room they shared. Orsic was sitting on one of the beds across from her, chattering away. It had been a while since since he’d been this talkative with her, going on about rocks-- or, this time, certain magical properties that might be induced in them through applications of various magical principles. That was about all that Mags was getting out of it, but she knew from experience that Orsic wouldn’t mind. She laid back, herself, closing her eyes and allowing him to talk.

He was still smiling. That was good. She could do this, maybe. They had always said she could.

Not really having been listening, it took Mags a moment to realize when Orsic went quiet. She opened her eyes, glancing over at him. His mood seemed to have changed; he was looking at her, brow furrowed, and Mags realized he was expecting a response.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked.

“I asked if you were alright.”

_ Drat,  _ Mags thought, finally noticing the stiffness to his shoulders.  _ I’ve made him worry.  _ “I’m fine,” she said lightly. “Just a bit tired. It has been a long few weeks.”

Orsic nodded. He still looked troubled, though, and the tentative hope that Mags had allowed to blossom in her chest began to sink. It had been hardly two hours, and already he had turned serious again, looking at her with such concern in his eyes. It was difficult not to blame herself.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “Are you?”

Orsic nodded. “Yes,” he said. He didn’t sound certain about it, but then again, they both understood that ‘alright’ was relative, these days. “I…” he continued, then hesitated. “I’ve been distracted, these past weeks.”

“Understandable,” Mags said with a sigh. She pursed her lips. They could have talked about the past few weeks. They could have talked about Iokala. They had already spent a lot of time talking about Iokala, with all the tears that had come with it, that night that Calum had arrived to inform them of her fate.

They could have talked about it again. Maybe it would even have been good for both of them. But at least today, Mags didn’t want to. And so she turned her head towards Orsic, pondering, and then let the faintest smirk play across her lips.

“Certainly understandable, with those Seekers around,” she said, and it was perfectly true, hardly any insinuation there, but Orsic blushed anyway, ducking his head slightly. On a different day, it would be fun to tease him further-- she had more than enough ammunition for it, after the ball.

For now, she let her brother push through his embarrassment. “They do always seem to be where the excitement is,” he agreed, hands clasping together. “But that’s not what I was…” he hesitated. “It’s just, I meant to be more helpful to you while we were there.”

Just like that, Mags softened. That was Orsic for you. “I don’t want you to have to worry about me,” she said, gently but firmly. Orsic frowned, and Mags, anticipating his argument, continued before he could deliver it. “Anyway, of course you’ve been helpful.”

Orsic’s expression turned skeptical. Mags closed her eyes again, taking slow breaths. Another thing she had learned in the last few months: she could not force feeling where none existed, but what she could be was sturdy, stable, unshakable. That was her strength.

So she looked steadily into her brother’s eyes and didn’t quite smile, though the vague shape of it was there. “I’m glad you came with me.”

“Of course I did,” Orsic said, fiercely, protectively, and it warmed her heart. As level-headed as he was, her little brother was also passionate; once he had latched onto something, whether a new research interest or a family member to care for, his dedication to it was as intense as it was pure.

That was Orsic’s strength, and Mags let it comfort her. For now, it was all she could do to numb her own pain, but it was good to have her brother by her side, feeling the highs and the lows as strongly as ever. It was going to be okay. That was the one good thing to come out of all this, she thought: the bond between them strengthened, the knowledge that after everything they had lost, they still had each other. It was that thought that Mags could hold onto, on those days when she could hold onto nothing else.

So she smiled, and felt it, this time. And maybe Orsic could tell something had gotten through to her, because he smiled back, before looking down at the notes in his lap again. 

Mags let her eyes close once more, and before long, the murmurings of Orsic thinking out loud picked up again from the other end of the room. Mags vaguely registered the sound of his voice, the sound of the rest of the passengers just outside the door, the feeling of the ferry moving through the water, and, for the moment, at least, let herself exist in them.


	3. Valiance/Yael

Yael, as it turned out, wasn’t much of a cuddler. Valiance was still panting when she rolled away, somehow managing to create space between them even in the cramped confines of the broom closet. Which she’d dragged them into not so long ago.

Despite everything that had happened tonight-- and there had been a lot of it-- Valiance replayed that last sentence in his head and nearly laughed out loud. “Well,” he said cheerfully, still feeling a bit dizzy, “that happened.”

Yael gave a vague hum of affirmation. He was a little disappointed to notice her shifting to redress herself-- he would have been more than happy to keep going-- but she had established that she was in command of this little tryst from the very beginning, and Valiance was more than okay with that.

Yeah, no complaints from him. He sighed, deep and lustlorn. “Shapeshifting, huh?” 

Yael’s back was to Valiance, but he saw her tense. “Yeah,” she said shortly.

That surprised him. She’d been open about it, before-- more than open about it, he thought, barely suppressing a moan. It would be a long time before he could forget the glint in her eye as she shoved him against the closet door. But now that was done, even without looking at him, it was clear that the topic of Yael’s abilities was off-limits.

Well, Valiance could understand that, even if it didn’t stop him from being curious. Some things were just different in the heat of the moment. He’d had a great night with a goddamn  _ shapeshifter _ and hero of the kingdom; asking for anything else would have just been selfish.

Speaking of which, Yael had fallen silent, her back to him. Valiance looked down at her, feeling a little awkward, now. Had he done something wrong? Or was this her way of saying it was time for him to leave?

“Uh,” he said. Not his suavest moment. “Yael?”

Still no response, and Valiance was actually growing concerned until he realized that Yael wasn’t ignoring him; she had fallen asleep. Right there, not even fully out of her armor, curled up on the cold stone floor of the cramped broom closet.

Huh. If Valiance were a vain man, he would attribute that to the afterglow of their previous activities, and part of him was still tempted, but honestly, Yael had done most of the work. Not that he wouldn’t have given as good as he got, he thought, eyes drifting longingly over her sleeping form.

Yael had been urgent, when she’d pulled him aside, and Valiance hadn’t had a thought in his head other than to follow her. If Valiance had found her attractive in that dress-- and god, had he-- there were no words to describe the effect of those dark eyes, blazing with intensity.

But even then, he hadn’t missed how her armor had been bloodied, or how the intensity in her eyes didn’t completely mask exhaustion.

She sure had just saved everybody’s asses tonight, huh? His own included. While everyone else-- including the princess!-- had been scrambling, she’d taken out dozens of those  _ things  _ singlehandedly.

Well, he thought, satisfied, he was glad to be a pretty face to help vent out the adrenaline of the day. It was nice to think he’d been able to repay her in that way. Not that it really qualified as repayment when he had gotten fantastic sex with someone way out of his league out of it, but hey, it still counted.

He watched Yael a bit longer, musing. But soon, he shivered, and he realized how hard and cold the stone floor was beneath them. Lightly, he shook Yael’s shoulder, but she hardly even stirred. Even shaking her harder yielded no results; she really was down for the count.

After a moment’s pause, Valiance decided something. They were both decent enough. He wasn’t the strongest guy out there, sure, but Yael was short and lithe. He managed to scoop her up with a huff, and exited the closet.

Okay, so he was weaker than he thought. For a moment, Valiance panicked. Luckily for him, he remembered there was a sitting room just across from them. Even luckier, when he reached it, it was unoccupied. Even tumbling out of his arms onto a plush sofa didn’t cause Yael to stir. It was pretty quiet, here; though there was still movement throughout the palace, people being escorted home, no one looked twice at him, which was a good thing, considering he was a little out of breath after that. Thank god musicians didn’t have to be muscular.

A dark blue blur caught his eye, just as a light breeze hit the side of his face.

“What are you doing?”

Valiance spun himself around in time to see an elven girl-- that blonde one, one of the other guests of honor. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed the vibrant pink fluff that made up her outfit, but there she was, staring with light blue eyes, seemingly at a space beside his head. On her shoulder sat that little dragon creature of hers, its eyes fixed unsettlingly on Valiance.

“I just thought she’d be more comfortable on the couch,” he tried, relieved to hear that he sounded more secure than he felt. She looked harmless enough, but something about her still unnerved him.

The elf narrowed her eyes, still not quite looking at him. “What did you do to her?”

Valiance flushed. He wasn’t unused to this level of immediate, unfounded suspicion-- perks of being a tiefling-- and he felt himself grow defensive quickly. “She’s just sleeping.”

The girl considered this, and then shrugged one shoulder. Instantly, the miniature dragon flew from her shoulder again, this time landing on the arm of the couch. It seemed to study Yael’s sleeping form, watching her gentle breaths coming in and out.

The elf crossed her arms, but still looked suspicious. She pointed a finger accusingly. “Why would she have fallen asleep in the closet?” she demanded.

Valiance blinked. She was kidding, right? He waited a moment, to see if she would break, or if perhaps the obvious answer would strike her. It didn’t. He opened his mouth, then paused, unsure where to go with this. In the end, he figured if she couldn’t figure it out on her own, he didn’t have to explain anything. “It’s been a long day,” he said weakly. 

To his surprise, that seemed to satisfy the girl, whose suspicion melted away before his eyes. “I guess that’s true,” she said, nodding wisely. And then she paused, adopting a thoughtfulness that seemed out of place for someone who looked as young as she did, and wearing what looked like cotton candy in clothing form to boot. “She did a lot for us today, huh?”

She said it a bit sadly, but there was also admiration there. Valiance, confused as he was, could at least make sense of the latter emotion. “She did,” he said.

She looked contemplatively down at Yael, who was still sleeping soundly. Valiance watched her, too, partly to avoid the awkwardness that the elf girl had brought with her. After a moment of this, the girl sighed, then took a seat on the floor beside the couch, her dragon falling into her lap as she stroked it. 

Well, this was awkward. Maybe this was his hint that it was time to leave.

Still, he found his gaze lingering on Yael. He really didn’t know much of anything about her. She’d already been a hero before tonight, he knew. That was the whole reason she’d been a guest of honor. The shapeshifting. The adventuring. Her companions. All of it was a mystery to him, and a very captivating one, at that. What led a person to all that? What had-- no pun intended-- shaped her?

Valiance was a romantic. He knew this about himself. Though many people treated him with instinctual distrust, he liked people. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of a one-night stand and wished for more time, to know more about this person whose life had intersected with his for that briefest moment. It wouldn’t be the last, either. Yael just happened to draw out that feeling even more than usual.

He reached his hand up to his neck, unfastening his cloak and draping it over Yael’s body like a blanket.

“Thanks,” he heard a small voice say. The elf girl was smiling, though not looking at him. Her dragon still had that intent stare, though.

The whole interaction was leaving Valiance a little whiplashed. Apparently that talent wasn’t unique to Yael, but her whole crew, he thought wryly. He much preferred this, though. And it was good to know he was leaving her with good friends. “You’re welcome,” he said quietly.

He thought about leaving some kind of note, maybe asking the girl to tell Yael where he’d be when she woke up. He resisted the urge. If Yael wanted to find him, he had no doubt she’d be able to.

But he suspected she had far more important things to worry about. Another mystery, another fascination. And again, Valiance wished to know more, because more than anything, he loved stories, and whatever hers had been, and whatever it would continue to be, he was sure it was going to be something grand indeed.


	4. Atiro & Acantha

Atiro rounded on a lone pureblood leaning against the outer wall of the lab. “I think you’re in the wrong place, stranger,” he said cheerfully.

Wide, nervous brown eyes looked up at him. The pureblood looked to be about Atiro’s age, his dark hair in disarray. “Ah, yes,” he stuttered, not meeting Atiro’s eyes. “I, ah, seem to have gotten a bit lost. I’m meant to deliver a message to... Speaker Solatho?”

With a trembling hand, he reached into his pocket for his writ, withering beneath Atiro’s gaze all the while. Atiro didn’t need to see the document to know that this man was lying: first time in the inner city or no, there was no reason for a random pureblood to be lurking around the lab. Curious.

“Atiro?” Acantha’s voice called out from around the corner, followed by a muttered curse. “Did you leave without me again?”

“Over here,” he called over his shoulder, then turned back to the young man, his fingers still curled around the presented writ. “You’d better get going then, hm?” he said, cocking his head. He pointed. “Speaker Solatho’s house is that way.”

The man nodded so fiercely that it seemed his head might topple right off his neck. “Yes, sir, thank you.” He skittered off in the direction Atiro had directed just as Acantha turned the corner.   
“Who was that?” she asked.

“Just some messenger, lost in the city.”

“Here?” Acantha frowned. “That’s odd. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near here.”

Shrugging a shoulder, Atiro smirked. “Guess he was  _ really _ lost. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. He’s already gone, anyway.”

Skeptical, Acantha stared after the pureblood’s retreating form. After a moment, she shook her head, apparently convinced.

* * *

Atiro slipped out of the house after dinner that evening, ostensibly to take a walk before curfew.

The drow city the Yuan-ti had taken over was rather large, but Atiro had some talent for navigating it. It wasn’t so hard to find someone once you’d already seen them-- especially with the help of some magic-- and not much more than that to figure out who exactly he was. And the more he pressed, the more he realized exactly what kind of web his curiosity had uncovered. Not just one Yuan-ti pureblood poking his nose in the inner city, but a small network of them, with big plans indeed. 

He sympathized with them, to be sure. It was a dangerous game they were playing-- he had to respect that, even if he thought it was foolish. He kept a silent eye on it.

And surely there was no harm in learning more, making indirect contact. Just to see what they had up their sleeves. There was no harm in gathering information, either; in fact, it was practically his job description.

And if he felt his own investment in the cause increase, well, Acantha would always be around to remind him what a poor investment it was.

* * *

Rarely were Atiro’s spirits as high as when he and Acantha were out of the city on a scouting mission. He was sure Acantha felt the same; despite her frequent reminders of the dangers of travel outside the protection of the city, she was always looser, out here. They were a few days into their usual route, stopped to take a meal break, joking around about something or another. Acantha was laughing at a story Atiro had just told, making dry, teasing responses, and Atiro was in such a good mood that he forgot to watch his tongue as closely as he should have.

All it took was a few less-than-respectful jokes about the ones-who-would-be-gods for Acantha’s laughter to fade. She rebuked him, as she usually did, and that was when he made his second mistake: instead of retracting his joke, he doubled down, saying something  _ very  _ uncomplimentary about the High Speaker that had Acantha’s jaw dropping, all previous signs of entertainment quickly drained away.

“Oh, relax,” Atiro said, rolling his eyes. “No one’s around to hear, you know.”

“You could at least try to be respectful,” Acantha muttered. 

Atiro let out a bark of laughter, and suddenly found his sister’s green eyes flashing up at him, glinting as dangerously as one of her daggers. “I mean it,” she said warningly. “Like it or not, we’re better off than most and we have them to thank for it.”

It was an argument that had come up between them many times before, and a few months ago, Atiro probably would have backed off there, maybe made some comment about how he only had his natural charisma and quick thinking to thank for his position. Instead, he let out a hoot of laughter that bounced off the stone walls. “Thank them?” he echoed, amused. “You can’t be serious. Thank them for what, acknowledging that we're slightly less expendable than the next guy?”

Acantha’s cheeks flushed with anger. “Watch your tone,” she snipped.

“Or what?” Atiro asked mockingly, raising his eyebrows. Acantha said nothing, just glared at him more. “You’ll tell my Speaker?”

Acantha visibly stiffened. “Of course not,” she hissed. “But  _ someone _ could, if they heard you talking like this. Is that what you want?” Now it was Atiro’s turn to remain silent, fists clenching in irritation. Sensing her advantage, Acantha pressed harder. “I know you wish things were different, but the only reason things aren’t worse is because we had leaders to keep us together. There’s no point being ungrateful when they’re the reason our people still have a city at all.”

Atiro waved a hand. “That’s another way of saying that you’re completely under their thumbs. Proverbially, that is,” he added with a snide grin.

He could practically see steam coming from Acantha’s skin. “Just because I  _ care about our city--” _ she spat. “ _ I’m _ the reason we’re allowed out here at all, in case you’ve forgotten. If it were up to you, we’d never get to leave the city walls at all, and then you’d be moaning about that, instead. So yes, I think you should show some respect once in a while.”

Atiro scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Do you really think they give a damn about you?”

His sister let out a huff of laughter, decidedly unamused. “ _ No one  _ gives a damn about us,” she said crisply. “All I’m saying is that maybe if you spent more time listening to the Speakers instead of whining about them, you’d find you have less to complain about.”

Atiro smiled harshly. “Gee, Acantha. Maybe if you suck up to them long enough, their scales will start to rub off on you.”

Acantha jumped to her feet, face crimson with fury. “Fuck you.” 

Unflinching and unapologetic, Atiro stared at her. Her whole body was tense, trembling, like she was resisting the urge to hit him-- Atiro was vaguely surprised she hadn’t already snapped. They stood there, frozen in time, each waiting for the other to falter. At last, Acantha spun on her heel with an exclamation of disgust, and stomped off, continuing down their route without so much as a glance behind her.

Atiro remained frozen for a minute. That could have gone better. He cursed to himself, quickly packing up the remainder of their things, and ran after her. He slowed as soon as he spotted her, keeping his distance. She knew he was there, but-- as expected-- she made no effort to slow her pace.

What had he expected? After a minute to cool down, he realized how rashly he had acted. He’d known exactly where to strike to provoke her, and her anger would burn much longer for it.

Still, they had at least a few more days before they would be back home. Plenty of time to cool off, forget about the whole thing. No point in getting worked up over it, now.

And then they ran into those  _ fucking  _ surfacers.

* * *

After successfully tracking a bunch of surfacers and then less-than-successfully attempting to rescue his sister from their clutches, being tied up beside her wasn’t exactly Atiro’s idea of a good time, and Acantha’s glare hardly improved the experience. She was obviously reluctant to say anything in front of her captors, but she hardly needed to; her gaze said it all.  _ You idiot,  _ he could practically hear her seething.  _ Why would you do something so stupid? _

Atiro shrugged his shoulder slightly--  _ who can say?--  _ before turning back to their captors, ready to turn on the charm.

* * *

“This is by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” Acantha hissed the moment they were out of sight.

“You’re welcome.”

“For what?” she scoffed. “I was headed this way anyway.”

Atiro smirked. “Really? And after the fit you threw over me making a deal with them?”

Scowling, Acantha kicked at a rock on the side of the path. Atiro watched it skitter towards the city, realizing with some trepidation that they weren’t in the clear just yet.

Well, they would cross that bridge when they got there. “Think they’ll make it into the city?”

Acantha snorted. “Those idiot surfacers are going to parade directly into her.”

She sounded more than a little gleeful at that prospect, and after what they’d put her through in the last day, Atiro figured he couldn’t blame her. “They probably won’t be able to hide from her,” he allowed. “I tailed them for a while, you know. Stealth is not their strong suit.”

Images of heavy dwarven armor and near constant deliberation and bickering came to mind.

“They certainly won’t be making any friends, either, as long as that loudmouth’s around.” 

Atiro didn’t have to wonder which one Acantha was talking about-- it was plain which of the surfacers had most gotten underneath her scale-free skin. “Diplomacy isn’t their strength either, it seems,” he said dryly. “Who knows? They might give her a good fight.”

Acantha looked amused at the idea.

The city walls grew taller with every step. Silence fell between them, growing more and more daunting the nearer they got to the gates. At last, they could make out the movements of the Yuan-ti who guarded the entrance to the city. Coming home always felt like the city was closing itself in around him, blocking off their escape, but today Atiro felt it more keenly than ever.

Acantha seemed to feel it, too. “Ah,” she began, not looking at him as she kept her pace unchanging. She hesitated, then nodded awkwardly. “Thanks for coming back.”

He raised his eyebrows; she was still determinedly not looking at him. It was hard for her to say, and he knew it. So he gave a confident grin that she wouldn’t see and tilted his head. “You shouldn’t doubt me.” She said nothing, not even to make fun of him, and he figured he wasn’t the only one remembering their argument. “Well… maybe nobody gives a damn about us, but that’s what we have each other for, you know?”

From a half a pace behind her, he could see Acantha’s shoulders stiffen, and then she sighed. When she turned her head over her shoulder, there was a familiar smirk on her face. “I knew I kept you around for some reason.”

With that wordless reconciliation, they had finally reached the city. There was no trouble as they passed through; Atiro looked back regretfully at the opening that closed behind them.  _ Someday,  _ he hoped silently.

Beside him, Acantha was breathing steadily in and out, her posture having become noticeably straighter the second they stepped into city walls. Preparing herself to make the necessary report to their Speaker-- he would have his own reports to make, later. At last, they reached the block where they would have to part ways, and stopped walking.

Their eyes met. Acantha had been through the wringer in the last few days and she looked it: dark circles beneath her eyes, skin sweaty and dirty. To most people, she would only look exhausted after a difficult mission, but Atiro saw the nervousness she was so skilled at masking.

Acantha had always been good at hiding her emotions, ever since she was a child; even then, she had hated to be reprimanded, had become a model example of a pureblood to avoid it. And possibly, he thought with a tinge of guilt, to cover for him, too.

“I promise it’ll be fine,” he said with all the certainty he could muster. Her jaw clenched, but her eyes softened the slightest bit, and she nodded. She turned the corner, walking briskly, and soon she was out of sight.

She didn’t come home that night.


	5. Orsic/Calum

_ The Seekers are returning to Krupp. _

Orsic perked up at the sound of his sister’s voice in his head; he was quickly growing accustomed to his tinkering being interrupted by messages from Mags, but this was a much more exciting announcement than the usual apology for missing dinner. Abandoning the bubbling flask at his desk, he scrambled for his pocket, finding a small, smooth stone and pulling it into his palm. The plainest rock in his collection by far, but also unquestionably his proudest addition to it.

“Have you heard from them?” he asked eagerly. “When are they coming? And why? I thought they had other plans.”

It had only been a few short weeks since they’d parted ways from the Seekers in Port Princane. Orsic had heard from Calum once since then, only a few days ago: twenty-five words that suggested that the group of them had already managed to stumble into another of their wild adventures, this time in the Underdark of all places, and that it had been a successful, if taxing, excursion.

It was all very vague, frustratingly so, but it was nice to hear Calum’s voice in his ear, and more than a little flattering that Calum had thought of him after what was surely a dangerous journey. The very thought of the Underdark made him shudder-- the thought of being underground probably would for a long, long time. Still, he was not surprised that Calum and his friends had been successful; they had, after all, been the ones to free him and Eved from that prison.

Apparently they were headed back towards Krupp, though. Mags didn’t have much more information than that-- no doubt it had taken plenty of energy to magically send even that much along-- and she sounded fondly exasperated at the chaos the adventurers promised to bring with them.

Slipping his stone back into his pocket, Orsic drummed his fingers against the desk. He’d have to prepare the house for guests, he thought with a small smile. His eyes drifted to the half-brewed elixir he’d been working on, and went back to it with a new gusto; it would be nice, he thought giddily, to have something impressive to show his friends when they arrived.

Of course, Calum would probably have something much more amazing up his sleeve; he was a talented wizard and not above showing it off. Maybe it should have come across as vain, but Orsic couldn’t help finding it endlessly charming, how eager someone as obviously brilliant as Calum was to impress Orsic, of all people. And it seemed to go both ways; Calum had always listened to his explanations of his geological studies with genuine interest, and he’d been as fascinated as Orsic was at the prospect of combining his interests in the magical and the material into a singlular branch of study.

Orsic was already looking forward to his arrival, envisioning more study sessions, those intense discussions of magic that he usually only got to have with Oriana, when she had time to visit and converse. And as much as Orsic enjoyed her company, it wasn’t the same as watching Calum light up with interest as they talked, his eyes dancing with the excitement of learning something new.

And if he was also thinking about fingertips brushing as they walked together, or shoulders pressing together as one of them pointed out a passage in the book they were reading, well, there was nothing wrong with that, was there? He’d never met anyone like Calum before. And Orsic couldn’t help lingering on the closeness of the dance they’d shared, or the hand firmly holding his even as chaos broke out around them. A token given with a smile as they’d said their goodbyes. He was sure he wasn’t wrong in thinking there was something more to it than intellectual attraction, as nice as that was in and of itself.

It was nice, to dwell on all of it, to feel himself get flustered over the memories. To imagine they were all going somewhere.

For now, Orsic carefully reached for the flask, swirling the contents around. He analyzed his completed experiment with a smile and a thoughtful hum. Yes, he thought happily, this would be a good one.

* * *

Mags had been the one to receive word from the Seekers that they would be coming to Krupp, but it was Orsic who Calum called to let them know when they were right outside the city walls. Orsic sent his own message to Mags, who wanted to meet with them in person as soon as possible. The group was bringing official business, which meant it must be serious. That was Mags’ justification, but Orsic could tell that she was looking forward to seeing them, too.

They met in the front room of their home, ready as they would ever be for the commotion the Seekers would surely bring in with them. Orsic nervously fiddled with the jeweled bracelet on his left wrist. He caught his sister glancing his way, her eyes dropping down to his hands and back up again with a knowing glint in her eye, making Orsic’s face heat suddenly. A token given, a token accepted, he’d thought when he slipped it on this morning, but maybe it was too much, too obvious? He wasn’t used to being-- well, he wasn’t sure if  _ courted  _ was exactly the right word to use in a situation like this, but--

Mags said nothing, though, merely raised an amused eyebrow before turning to Eved, composed as ever. She poked fun at him here and there, but she would have said something if he was doing anything  _ too  _ embarrassing. 

Iokala would have laughed at him, Orsic thought with a sudden pang. She would have teased him endlessly, giggling something inappropriate about third dates.

His hand clenched over his wrist at that unwelcome, painful thought, but he didn’t have time to wallow in it, because just then he heard the first strains of a gaggle of voices outside, approaching the door, followed by a series of loud knocks.

And just like that, there they were; the Seekers, standing on their doorstep accompanied by a dozen new faces, their expressions ranging from curious to uncomfortable to pleasant. Orsic didn’t have time to look closer before he, Mags, and Eved were bombarded by various greetings and a few hugs; clearly, their friends were as excited to see them as Orsic had been.

Calum pulled away from their hug all too quickly, already talking animatedly about all they had to catch up on, animatedly gesturing behind them to the strangers, who had so far watched the display of affection quietly in the background. They looked human, all pale skin and dark hair, except one young man who seemed to have bleached his. Calum reached over to grab the hand of one of the strangers, guiding her forward to be introduced first.

Unlike the rest, she was an elf, and her skin wasn’t pallid like the other new faces. She wore round glasses and carried herself with a prim sort of confidence that made sense when Calum introduced her as Ryla, his old schoolmate, best friend, and-- until recently-- a prisoner of the Yuan-ti in the Underdark.

“I remember Calum telling me about you,” Orsic said, reaching out to take her hand. Of course he remembered, even if he had been a bit distracted by everything else going on at the time. “I was glad to hear that he found you. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ryla nodded politely, returning the greeting, though the way she smiled at him was a bit strange, like she was having trouble deciding what to make of him. She glanced between him and Calum and seemed like she wanted to say something more, but she was interrupted. Grunka and Yael were speaking to Mags, introducing the rest of the strangers. They were of a people called the Yuan-ti, apparently, who the Seekers had also rescued from the more powerful of their kind as they’d rescued Ryla.

One of them, Orsic noticed, was glaring daggers at Grunka as she spoke, though she said nothing. The Yuan-ti standing beside her, who looked so similar to her that Orsic was almost certain they must be related, smirked and walked forward with confidence. He greeted Mags and Orsic with a dignified bow and a quick wink that Orsic wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret before slipping back to his place in the pack.

They had thought of Krupp as a place to help the refugees settle, Grunka explained, due to its connections to dwarven culture, which was likely as similar to what the Yuan-ti were used to as they were likely to get. “We also just wanted an excuse to come visit,” Lieu said cheerfully, and her companions nodded in agreement. 

“Well,” Orsic said with a smile, “we’re always happy to be your hosts.” 

As the conversation settled and the Seekers began to break off into smaller groups for the rest of the day, Orsic made his way to Calum’s side. The knowing looks Lieu and Jirro shot their way as he did so was slightly embarrassing, but pleasant, too, in its own way. It helped Orsic calm his nerves for a moment as he went back to the loose script he’d readied for this occasion.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he had ideas, this time. He’d spent nearly the full week thinking about them. They weren’t extravagant plans, by any means-- nothing presumptuous-- but Orsic had thought it was best to be prepared. Calum had been the diligent one, last time they’d met: sending his messages, visiting Orsic and Mags’ room with books to cheer them up, asking for a dance. Given all that, and assuming he hadn’t misread anything, it was only right that he responded in kind, this time around.

And Calum hadn’t stayed in Krupp long, last time. Orsic’s recollection of that week were muddled, a minefield in his mind, but there was much of the city yet to be seen, and happy, less complicated memories to be made. He probably hadn’t spent much time in the gardens. They could bring a lunch out there, maybe.

Of course, as soon as the crowd in the living room began to disperse and see about other business, Calum beelined to him, eagerly asking if Orsic would join him and Ryla in the library for a while. Orsic couldn’t find it in him to mind; if he had learned anything about the Seekers, it was that it was always best to expect things not to go according to plan with them. In any case, it was hardly a hardship to spend the day at the library with an incredibly intelligent wizard, and he was admittedly quite curious to learn more about Ryla, as well.

As they walked, Calum told Ryla all about how the Seekers had first come to meet the Parres-- it seemed she had already been filled in on the basics, but Calum went into greater detail about the lamia’s lair, including several details that Orsic himself hadn’t been aware of at the time. He skipped over the details of their subsequent meetings with a tact that Orsic was grateful for.

“He’s been learning a bit of magic, recently, as well,” Calum added, a note of pride in his voice.

“It’s nothing much,” Orsic said modestly, feeling his face heat pleasantly. “Not like what you can do. But I have certainly taken something of an interest in the arcane in recent months.”

Ryla hummed, pressing him for details and listening intently to Orsic’s explanation of one of his more recent experiments, obviously as intrigued as Calum, though her excitement was more muted than his tended to be. “That’s very impressive,” she said, and Orsic thought he could almost see her mind working behind the intensity of her eyes. “I know a few of the professors at the college were knowledgeable artificers, but I’ve never delved too deeply into the subject, myself.”

This seemed to surprise Calum. “Which professors? Anyone I know?”

Ryla thought a moment, then listed a few names that meant nothing to Orsic, but seemed to ring distant bells for Calum. The two of them chattered about their college as the three of them continued the walk to the library, soon moving away from their teachers and falling to nostalgia, telling stories of their time at the College of Mystra. Orsic listened, intrigued by this glimpse into both Calum’s background and the inner workings of such a famous establishment. The closeness shared between the two of them quickly became obvious in the stories they told, dripping in fond nostalgia.

Orsic had brought his research materials along with them to the library, but for the most part he chipped away at it on his own. Early on in the day, Calum demonstrated to both of them a spell he’d learned somewhat recently, turning himself into a perfect twin of his familiar, Atreus, who he’d snapped into existence a moment before. Ryla was instantly set on trying to figure it out for herself, and the two of them almost immediately got lost as Ryla poured over Calum’s notes as he began to explain the theory behind the spell.

For a while, Orsic tried to listen, but it quickly became clear that it was beyond him, and he returned to his own books. They provided a steady stream of background noise, usually soft and fervent, but occasionally building up to heated exchanges that earned them stern looks from the head librarian. 

Eventually, they reached a breakthrough; Ryla’s transformation wasn’t as complete as Calum’s had been, but she had given herself a neat set of catlike claws where her fingernails should be. She was grinning widely, wiggling her long, elegant fingers, and Calum looked delighted with her.

(“He’s a good teacher,” Orsic remembered Grunka telling him.)

“Congratulations,” Orsic said, watching them with a soft smile. They quickly dove into figuring out what else Ryla could do with the new spell. One by one, Orsic saw her give herself a set of gills, then a pair of sharp-looking fangs peeked out over her lip. With another incantation, her pointed ears rounded out, and then her hair and eyes changed color, and instead of looking at a set of two Atreuses, Orsic found himself looking at a set of Calums, identical except for their clothing and the glasses perched on the second one’s nose. 

Calum-- the real one-- grinned, mirroring the other’s movements until she got annoyed and returned to her original elven shape. They both remained engrossed in conversation, and Orsic was content to watch between reading passages of his own book. They never did get around to seeing what Orsic was working on, but that was fine, he thought. The Seekers would be here for a while, yet; there was still plenty of time.

* * *

Dinner was nicer with so many people. Too often, these days, it was just Orsic and Eved, and usually Mags, as long as she didn’t end up working late into the evening. Sometimes Oriana would come over for a meal, but otherwise it was a quiet affair. Orsic preferred the crowded table. 

He was reminded of the last time the Seekers had eaten here-- his father had sat at the head of the table, and Iokala in the chair where one of the Yuan-ti now sat. Back then, they had been celebrating the group of mismatched adventurers who had rescued Orsic and Eved in the Mystral Valley. A few months later and they were instead eating with honored heroes of Xhae. Orsic wondered what his father would have thought of all the Seekers had accomplished. What he would have thought about Calum, specifically. Orsic had lists and lists of questions like that-- what would he have thought about Mags’ progress as governor, or Orsic’s alchemical experiments. Lists of questions that no amount of research would answer.

But even with these thoughts in the back of his mind, it was easy to let himself get distracted in the conversation, cheerful as it was. Lieu was no better with table manners than she’d been a month ago, and that had inspired Sashi to entertain them all with a story of a meal the group had shared with a giant down in the Underdark. 

Throughout the meal, Orsic couldn’t help but watch Calum when he could. Calum’s reactions to the story were interesting: when he would look embarrassed, when he would argue with Sashi about how the story really went.

Through his observations, it was quickly becoming clear to Orsic how close he and Ryla were. Calum remained attentive to her throughout the dinner, always mindful of her input, turning it over in his head a minute before replying thoughtfully. Often he’d stop a story the rest of the Seekers were telling to clarify things for the benefit of Orsic and Ryla, head snapping between them in an effort to include them both in the conversation. Orsic worried a bit for the state of his neck, by the end of it.

They all spent the rest of the evening together in one of the sitting rooms, discussing a few items of business, like the Yuan-ti who was apparently more troublesome than the rest, and the slippery answers her brother gave when they asked about her. Orsic watched and listened, glad to be around the Seekers again: always strange and interesting in equal measure.

The next day lacked any opportunity to spend time with Calum, as he was busy with the Seekers, dealing with something urgent that had come up, as it seemed things were wont to do around the group. Ryla had chosen to stay behind, and she found Orsic in their small study, alchemist’s tools set up before him.

Ryla spent more time asking him questions about what he was trying to make, what notes he was taking, and he explained to the best of his ability. She listened attentively, her eyes serious; not without the interest Calum always had, but lacking the same contagious excitement. Not unpleasant, but certainly not how Orsic had envisioned giving this demonstration. 

“What’s that going to be?” Ryla asked, when Orsic turned to add a few ingredients to a potion simmering above a small flame. 

“I’ve achieved a few different effects with this base method so far,” Orsic said, giving the elixir a swirl as the new components dissolved. “I never really know exactly what it’ll shape to be until it’s finished.”

Ryla hummed. “So you don’t know for sure?” she asked, and innocent though the question was, her eyes were still piercing. Orsic had never been as politically savvy as his oldest sister, but he knew well enough to know when he was being scrutinized. It was clear that Ryla was looking for something out of this interaction, though Orsic wasn’t entirely sure what or why.

So he shrugged. “That’s part of the fun of it.”

At this, Ryla’s lip twitched into a grin. “So it is,” she mused, then nodded slowly, like she’d just figured something out. She turned back to her text, fingers running over diagrams. For a moment, it was quiet like that, both of them working separately, until Ryla let out a quiet huff. “It really is ridiculous, how far along he’s gotten in just a few months. It’s going to take me awhile to catch up.” She shook her head, dark hair swinging behind her. “Last time I saw him, he was just figuring out magic missiles. And then he just waltzes into the middle of an underground prison and puts up a wall between me and my captor, just like that.”

If she was trying to express genuine exasperation with Calum, she was doing a poor job of it; her lips were turned up into a slight smile and her eyes had a gleam of fondness to them. Even if he hadn’t already known how close they were, this moment alone made it obvious how dearly she loved Calum. 

It was easy to understand. Orsic could easily imagine Calum stepping towards an enemy, his expression intent. All the power he possessed rising to the surface to protect his friend, the one he had left his home in the hope of finding. He doubted there was anyone in the world who could see both the clever student of magic and the intensity of the mage in battle without being a bit enchanted.

The thought settled uneasily in his stomach.

One of the many reasons Mags was so much better suited for politics than Orsic was that she knew how to keep her emotions close to her chest. It was something he thought he recognized in Ryla; she smiled politely, but remained reserved, for the most part. If her affection for Calum was so obvious to him, what must his own look like?

The idea was embarrassing on his own, but it wasn’t the only whisper in the back of his mind. There was the other part of him, the part that had been noticing how close she and Calum were, how much he admired her, the years of fond friendship that they spoke of. How Ryla was older, with beautiful elven features, and how she could perform amazing magic. Orsic was past the days when all he could show for his own talents was the magical equivalent of a candlestick, but even so, he could hardly compare to a wizard who had studied at an elite school for the arcane.

It was then that Orsic had to stop, and take a look at himself, and realize that he was very clearly, very painfully jealous.

_ Well, _ he thought.  _ That’s rather unpleasant. _

It would have been nice to leave it at that, shove the revelation aside to be ignored, but that didn’t feel like the most mature way to handle things. So instead, Orsic forced himself to set aside the sunken feeling in his chest and examine the thought slowly, as if it were an untested compound that might spit acid at him if he wasn’t careful. 

He had no right to be jealous at all, of course. Neither of them had made any promises, or even said anything about how they may or may not feel. And Orsic didn’t mind that; it made sense. Calum was an adventurer, after all, always heading to new places with new dangers and new discoveries to be made. He was glad enough to hear from Calum when he did. Because Orsic himself… well, he was really nothing special. He was another person who had been saved by the heroes of the kingdom, and there were many of those. These Yuan-ti were the latest bunch, in fact. If one of them were particularly interested in academic pursuits, Calum would probably be just as enthusiastic to study with them.

And that was fine. All it meant was that he should probably be a bit more realistic about his expectations. Mags would no doubt agree; she had never said anything outright, but Orsic understood the advice she only ever gave in implications and cautious looks. And Mags usually was right when it came to these matters, for all the familial teasing that said Orsic was the smart one.

The next morning, he left the jeweled wrist piece on his bedside table and joined the house for breakfast.

Calum and Ryla announced their intentions to spend the day studying again, though not at the library, this time, but rather in the study he and Ryla had worked in the previous day. It was one of his favorite places: bookshelves, a table cluttered with odds and ends-- rock samples, a magnifying glass, a stack of envelopes addressed to Mags-- and a tall window on one side with a wide sill with a cushion on it that made a perfect reading nook.

To Orsic’s surprise, Calum asked if he wanted to stay with them again, if he wasn’t busy. “I know it’s not the most exciting,” he said quickly, when Ryla left briefly to get her things. “I tried to convince her to come out and see more of the city, but she’s pretty set on trying to get caught up. And I don’t want to leave her here alone, you know? I’m still a bit worried she’ll disappear on me, again.” He smiled like it was nothing more than a joke, but Orsic understood. It was a kindness that seemed suited to Calum-- Orsic recalled how he’d come up to visit Orsic and Mags every day when they’d been under house arrest in Port Princane. The comparison brought another twinge that Orsic steadfastly ignored. 

It would be easier, maybe, if Orsic actually disliked Ryla, but he really didn’t. Strange as she was, she was intelligent and resourceful and interesting to talk to. She took a moment’s break from her own reading to assist Orsic with a magical infusion he’d been working on for the past few days, and her eyes lit up with satisfaction when he finally figured it out. Calum grinned at the both of them, and his eyes fixed on Orsic, whose heart fluttered again until he reminded himself sternly to get it together. He turned his gaze down to his newly-created bag of holding, smiling proudly.

It was shortly after that that Yael poked her head into the study, calling Calum over to help her with something for a minute. Calum stood, assuring both of them that he would be back soon, and just like that, Ryla and Orsic were left sitting side by side at the otherwise empty table. It was amazing, Orsic thought, how quickly the sound of quiet could go from companionable to awkward.

“It’s been a while,” Ryla said, breaking the silence, “since I’ve seen him in such a good mood.”

“Really?” Orsic asked, surprised. Calum had seemed to tend toward good spirits, in his experience. Then again, he remembered, Ryla surely knew him much better. “Well, he’s always seemed like someone who loves to learn.”

Ryla smiled, absentmindedly fiddling her quill back and forth against her ear lobe. “Oh, certainly. But learning isn’t always fun, even when you love it. And he’s having fun, now.”

“Ah,” Orsic said, unsure exactly how to respond. “I’m glad. I’ve been enjoying myself, too.”

“I’m sure he’s missed having a study buddy,” Ryla said, a strange smile on her lips.

Something about that stung a little, though it really shouldn’t have. He smiled politely. “He must be happy to have you with him again, then.”

To his surprise, Ryla’s eyebrows furrowed, her lips falling into a slight frown. “Yes, I think so, but that’s not exactly what I meant. He was so excited to come see you.”

“Was he?” Orsic felt his newly-adapted realism falter just long enough for his cheeks to grow warm. Then, catching himself, he coughed awkwardly. “We’re always glad to have him, of course. He and his friends have done a lot for us.”

Somehow, that seemed to smooth over whatever frustration had appeared on Ryla’s face. She hummed, the faint knowing smile back in its usual place. It made him feel like he was being seen right through, and Orsic made a point of looking elsewhere, fingers turning pages he wasn’t reading. 

To his side, he heard a small chuckle. “I can see why he likes you so much."

“I don’t know about that,” Orsic said quickly. “That is, well, I haven’t known him as long as you have. I’m really just… someone he rescued.” He avoided her eyes, feeling incredibly exposed beneath her gaze. “I’m sure you know what that’s like,” he said, and immediately clamped his lips together, because he hadn’t meant to sound so obviously lovelorn.

“What  _ what’s _ like?” Ryla asked, her smile growing into something a little devious.

Her eyes were twinkling with amusement, and Orsic’s whole body burned with mortification. “Ah, well,” he started. “You know. Just.” He waved a hand awkwardly, nearly knocking one of the bottles of ink all over his notes. “Him.”

He didn’t even have time to be properly mortified with himself before Ryla slapped a hand against her mouth. 

“Oh,  _ no,”  _ she said with a sort of horrified glee. Of course she’d be entertained by his pining, it must have been so obvious. Maybe if he ignored her in favor of the potion in front of him, he hoped desperately, she would lose interest.

Of course he wasn’t so lucky as that. Instead, Ryla only leaned closer, propping her chin atop her hands, her mouth an unending grin as she watched him fumble with his elixir. “He’s tricked you into thinking he’s cool, hasn’t he?” She sounded both awed and offended at the thought. “Oh, Calum.”

Orsic frowned. He was fairly sure he was being made fun of, but even so, he felt he should defend Calum a bit. “What he’s accomplished is quite impressive--”

“Oh, of course it’s impressive,” Ryla interrupted with a handwave, suddenly much more businesslike, though she was still smiling. “Calum’s always been impressive. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a nerdy little peacock about it.”

There was no cruelty in her tone; in fact, it was that same affection she always had around Calum. And there was something familiar about it, a teasing smile that Orsic knew well. It was nothing definitive, but for the first time the thought occurred to him that perhaps he’d misinterpreted the exact nature of the feelings there.

At the very least, there was something about her words combined with the matter-of-fact way she said them that made Orsic forget some of his own embarrassment, letting out a surprised laugh, despite himself. “What?”

Ryla shook her head, chuckling slightly, herself. “Well, everyone’s kind of like that, back at the college,” she admitted. “He’s not usually quite this bad, though.”

Embarrassment now at least a little more under control, Orsic found he could look at her directly again. “What do you mean?”

“He’s usually just excited, but I swear, he hasn’t stopped showing off for a second since we’ve been here, it’s the funniest thing,” Ryla laughed, shaking her head at her notes as she dipped her quill in its well. “All the years I’ve known him and I think this is the first time I’ve seen him with a crush.”

Her eyes darted up from her work in time to see Orsic freeze, blood rushing to his face. “Ah,” he said, his voice only slightly higher pitched. “R-really?”

Ryla’s smile widened, almost sinister in her amusement, and her eyes flickered to the door, where Calum had just returned. He was frowning, looking between his friend and Orsic, who was still nervously adjusting his glasses.

Calum’s eyes trained on Ryla suspiciously. “What were you talking about?”

Arching a single eyebrow, she flipped to the next page in her book. “I thought you were supposed to be a divination wizard,” she deadpanned, betrayed by a slight twitch to her lips.

(“I  _ am  _ a divination wizard,” a memory echoed with a playful smirk. A peacock, indeed, but an endearing one.)

“Ha-ha,” Calum said flatly, returning to his own seat with a last, curious glance towards Orsic.

“We were waiting for you,” Ryla said. “Orsic had something to show us.”

Their banter had given him a moment to take a breath and calm down, which was a very good thing, because now both their eyes turned to Orsic, and that was a little nerve-wracking on its own. He smiled modestly, taking one of his flasks in hand and tapping a nervous finger against the cork at the top. Originally, he’d thought to give it to Calum to demonstrate, but now he decided it was only appropriate to uncork the flask and offer it to the elf woman sitting across from him.

She took it in her hand, eying its contents. “What will this do?”

“It’s more fun if it’s a surprise, I think,” Orsic replied, a bit mischievous. “You might want to stand up for it.”

Cautiously, Ryla brought the flask to her lips and took a sip. A few seconds later, it was empty, and she blinked, looking around curiously. “What did it--” She didn’t have time to finish the sentence before she gasped with realization.

Beside him, Calum broke into a huge grin. “No way.”

Ryla’s feet were hovering about two inches off the ground. She wobbled forward, clutching at the nearby table for stability before easing off of it, regaining her balance and allowing herself to hover a few inches higher. “Okay, okay, this is…” A breathless laugh escaped her as she let herself float high enough to reach the study’s ceiling, running her hands over dark wood panels. “Wow. I’m lost for words.”

“It’ll last about ten minutes,” Orsic said with a proud grin. “You’re reacting pretty well, by the way. Mags screamed and Eved nearly broke down the door.”

Calum laughed beside him, openly delighted. “Amazing.”

The next ten minutes was a blur of discussion, experimentation with maneuvering on Ryla’s part, and enthusiastic praise from both wizards that had Orsic overwhelmed with both embarrassment and pleasure. Calum was as enthusiastic about his accomplishment as Orsic had let himself hope he might be, and even Ryla had lost a bit of her composure with the thrill of being in the air.

When it finally wore off and Ryla’s feet touched the ground, she took a deep breath. “That was incredible,” she said, smiling down at Orsic. She adjusted her hair, fixing the ponytail that had come a bit loose in flight. “Thank you very much for the demonstration.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Orsic said, unable to hide his smile.

With that, Ryla looked at the pair of them. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll excuse myself until dinner.” Her usual polite smile returned, though now that Orsic had seen it, he noticed the deviousness in her eyes didn’t go away entirely. “I have a few things to study on my own, for a while.”

“You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Calum asked, concerned. “I can stay here-- you know I never run out of things to study.”

“If you don’t take a break sometime, I’ll never have a chance to catch up to you, Calum,” Ryla tutted. “No, you two have been studying with me nearly the whole time we’ve been here. You should take the chance to do something  _ fun _ together.” Her eyebrows raised just slightly, and the way her eyes flicked over to Orsic anything but subtle.

Calum’s face turned bright red, embarrassed in a way Orsic didn’t think he’d quite seen him before. He recognized the teasing of siblings from years of experience, and the sight of Calum being subjected to it brought a bubble of laughter to his chest.

To laugh felt rude, though, so Orsic smiled instead, shyly turning his head to meet Calum’s eyes. “A break sounds nice, actually,” he said. And then, letting himself feel a bit of that old optimism, he felt himself reach out beside him, briefly touching Calum’s shoulder. “We could get something to eat?” he asked, ignoring how his face warmed. “Maybe bring something out to the garden? It’s a nice day, and I don’t think you’ve seen it, yet.”

And amazingly, Calum seemed to brighten. “I haven’t, no,” he said quickly. His eyes darted to Ryla and back one last time, and then that smirk was back in full force, though his cheeks were still pink. “That sounds fantastic,” he said. “It’s a date.”

Orsic’s heart pounded embarrassingly, but he managed to nod. “Shall we go now, then?”

Calum gestured to the door. “Lead the way.”

So Orsic took his hand and proceeded to do just that.

“Have fun,” Ryla called after them, a catlike smile on her face. 


	6. Egiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not actually from the Seekers-- this is our group's alternate campaign, in the Curse of Strahd adventure.

Her memories of her birth family are vague, when she remembers them, years later. It’s a band of half orcs, a big one, and they move around a lot. She remembers being big enough to help out with things around the camps. Learning to make fires for cooking, watching the smaller ones and keeping them out of the way. In the evening, the hunting party comes back with their loud voices. As the sun sets, there’s laughing and arguing and slapping each others’ backs and wrestling with each other and playfully scooping kids up in their arms. At night, she sleeps in the warmth between her mother and her father.

* * *

And then one night, she is awoken with a start. Still bleary-eyed, Egiss looks for her mother, but she isn’t there. Her father is, and he takes her to the edge of the tents, pointing her into the wilderness beyond, where she isn’t supposed to go on her own. There is shouting behind her-- a woman that sounds like her mother-- and then another man arrives with two of the little ones, whose names Egiss doesn’t remember. There’s shouting behind them, and the adults look back, worried. Her father points in a direction and tells Egiss to go that way, not to stop. He will find her later, he says.

Confused, Egiss hesitates, and that’s when her father yells at her, loud and angry, in a voice she’s never heard before. Frightened, Egiss grips the two small hands in hers and runs. She looks back only once, and sees flames, gray smoke rising into the night sky.

She can see okay in the dark. But she isn’t sure how far she was supposed to go, and she’s still tired, and scared, and thinking about how her father’s face had twisted grotesquely. The children-- whose names she still doesn’t know-- are crying. They’re tired, and Egiss is too, and she wants to go back, but she remembers what her father said and keeps going until she practically collapses against a boulder, holding the children close to her to warm them as well as herself, and they all fall asleep almost instantly.

* * *

When they wake the next day, she is afraid to go any further, but she remembers her father saying he would come and find her, so she stays put. Egiss builds a fire, just like her mother taught her to, and scavenges for what is good to eat, like her father taught her. She just manages to find enough to fill their bellies. The smaller children are still crying, even after they’ve eaten. She wants to make them feel better, but she’s crying too. They stay there all day, and no one comes to get them.

* * *

The day after that, Egiss’ fear and exhaustion finally become more powerful than her fear of disobeying her father, and she decides to go back and find her parents, herself. She leads the two little half orcs through the scrub, sure she’s going the right way until she hits a river that she’s never seen before. Fear sinks its claws into her throat, tears stream down her cheeks yet again. “If you get lost, stay where you are,” she remembers her mother saying. “Don’t wander.”

She messed up. She should have stayed where she was. Wiping her eyes, she turns back, hoping to fix her mistake, to find the clearing where they’d stayed the night.

* * *

She doesn’t know how long she and the two little ones walk. Her feet hurt. She’s thirsty, and the younger ones are crying again. They’re all still in their night clothes, dirty and torn up, and one of the boys has wet himself, and she didn’t have any way to clean it, so he’s been waddling in his own filth. 

Egiss knows, now, that she’s gotten them hopelessly and truly lost. She calls out for her parents, for anyone, even knowing how dangerous it is to do so. Nothing.

* * *

They sleep again a few times in the wilderness, and somehow they are lucky enough not to run into something bigger than them, but it doesn’t help much when food and water become even harder to find. Egiss carries the smaller child when she can, but she’s only so strong and she’s so, so tired and sore all over. 

* * *

Egiss finds a long, wide, smooth path. It’s completely unfamiliar to her, but it’s easier to walk on than the underbrush of the wild and it might lead her to another river. She’s so terribly thirsty.

* * *

They don’t find another river. They find a party of humans with a few animals and a small cart. Egiss isn’t fast enough; it takes almost no effort for the humans to catch up to Egiss and the two children whose hands she grips so tightly.

* * *

They travel a long way. Egiss isn’t sure where they’re going, but they give her food and water and one of them grabs her when she tries to run away one night. She cries, and so do the little ones, but she doesn’t try to run again. The humans speak to her a little bit in a language she only half knows, but when she says nothing, they seem to give up.

* * *

Triel is the first real village Egiss sees. It’s mostly humans that live there, with big fields and square buildings all in a row. Egiss holds the other two close as they are spoken to again, in Common that she barely understands.

A human woman with long, curly brown hair kneels in front of her and slowly and clearly says something in Common, and Egiss understands she’s asking her name, but she still can’t speak. When the woman reaches for the smaller of the two boys, Egiss screams and cries and kicks, and that makes both the little ones cry, too. Based on her experiences the past few days, that should be enough to chase the unwanted human away, at least for a little bit. (Egiss doesn’t notice the other humans grimacing sympathetically at the woman.)

But the woman only clucks her tongue and says something else, her words soothing and slow-- something about a bath, and together, and later. She leaves, and brings them back a waterskin and a loaf of bread that smells really,  _ really _ good. Egiss, full of caution, takes it. It’s fluffier than the bread Egiss is used to, but it’s warm, and it tastes as good as it smells. She breaks it, handing pieces to the little ones, as she has done throughout their journey.

The woman-- her name is Gemma, she says-- smiles, and pulls out a wet cloth while they chew. She asks Egiss permission to clean her face. Egiss pauses. Then nods. Gemma’s hands are gentle, and the water is warm. She asks Egiss if she can clean the other two, as well. Egiss blinks slowly and cautiously nods once more. Gemma wrings out her rag again and again, dipping it into a pot of water that another human had brought her while Egiss wasn’t looking, and carefully cleans all three of them as they eat and drink. She brings them new clothes, which are strange, but they are clean and not torn up. She shows them inside one of the buildings, where dozens of blankets have been piled together for them to sleep.

* * *

Egiss isn’t sure what to do. She wants for her parents to find her, like they said they would, even though she knows they don’t know where she is. She doesn’t want to go back into the woods, not alone, and she doesn’t want to bring the little ones back there, either. There’s food and water and a place for sleeping here. After a few days, the piles of blankets are replaced by little beds. 

She still hasn’t spoken a word, except a few in Orcish to calm the younger ones. Still, Gemma and the other humans have taken care of them. Gemma talks to her as she works, gently, not expecting her to respond to it, and Egiss gets more used to the language coming from her lips, starting to understand it easier.

* * *

“Which direction is home?”

That’s the first thing she says in Common. They don’t understand when she speaks Orcish, and she knows she needs Gemma to understand this, so Common it is.

Gemma’s smile falters, and she sits on the floor beside Egiss. “I’m not sure,” she says quietly. “You were very lost, my brother said.”

“My father said he’d find us, but I got us lost,” Egiss says in a small voice, feeling herself choke on her tears and her shame.

Gemma makes a comforting sound, and holds her arms open, and Egiss can’t help sinking into them as she bursts into sobs, crying out in Orcish over and over for her parents. All the while, Gemma holds her tightly, letting Egiss’ tears and snot soak her dress. She speaks calming things, telling Egiss that it’s okay, that she did good, that she’s strong, that she kept her brothers safe. Egiss doesn’t catch most of it, but the words are warm vibrations in Gemma’s chest, surrounding her and warming her.

“You can stay here,” Gemma says, when Egiss’ sobs have slowed to sniffles. “We’ll take care of you here.”

“I want to go back,” Egiss cries into her shoulder. 

“I know,” Gemma’s voice comes, arms still wrapped around her. 

Egiss falls asleep like that.

* * *

And so it goes. Egiss whispers her name to Gemma the next time she asks for it, and Gemma smiles, but when she asks about “her brothers’” names, Egiss can only shake her head and start crying again. She cries a lot, those first months. She’s almost always either crying or sleeping.

Gemma starts calling the two little ones Connor and Irving-- “my mothers’ brothers,” she says to Egiss, though of course Egiss hadn’t asked. Gemma lets Egiss come outside with her, as long as she stays close, and Egiss spends days and days standing on the porch, watching for her parents. Part of her knows they won’t come. She learns to accept the disappointment when that part of her is right.

* * *

Weeks turn to months. The humans whisper, look at her funny. She’s heard herself introduced to many people, by now. “One of the half orcs Gemma took in. She’s from one of those bands of barbarians to the northeast. We think they probably got into it with some folk or another. They always do. Not much instinct for self-preservation in those parts. Ah, well, Gemma’s always been a saint.”

* * *

When Egiss finally tells her about that night, Gemma tells her that her parents told her to run to keep her safe. At first, that is all Egiss knows, and she holds onto the hope that her parents are still alive, looking for her, for an embarrassingly long time. It isn’t until she’s older that she learns what happens to bands of half orc barbarians who cause trouble in that part of the forest.

* * *

Gemma isn’t married, but she has a lot of siblings, and they have lots of spouses and kids. At first, they’re cautious with Egiss, Connor, and Irving, but the boys get along just fine with the human kids, and Gemma encourages it, and before long Egiss basically has a dozen other new parents. It reminds her of her old home; everyone looking out for each other.

She’s good at taking care of human kids, too, as it turns out. Gemma’s sister teaches her to cook, and Gemma’s brother teaches her to milk the cow. For a while, Egiss will willingly do such tasks quietly for hours-- once, a wife of one of Gemma’s brothers forgets about her, and she ends up sweeping off the porch for hours before anyone notices.

* * *

It takes time, but eventually Egiss gets used to her new home. She becomes Egiss of Triel. She knows the names of her new family, her mom and her aunts and uncles and cousins-- and they speak to her, and she starts speaking back. She slowly grows into an adult, and Connor and Irving become the same age that Egiss was when they all arrived. The boys are little rascals, always wrestling and getting into mischief with their human cousins, and, of course, teasing Egiss as any brothers would.

Egiss learns everything she needs to know to be useful around the village. She gets used to the odd looks traders give her and her brothers as they stop in Triel on their way to Baldur’s Gate. She learns to patiently explain how the village adopted them after their parents were killed. They were barbarians, she’d explain when asked, and the trader would nod, like that made sense.

“Reckless and short-tempered, or so I’ve heard. Doesn’t make for long lives. It’s good that you were given a proper home,” they’d say again, and Egiss would nod, grateful for Gemma and her cousins, who laugh and sing with her, who help her do her chores and make clothes for her, who go to festivals with her. 

* * *

Sometimes, she thinks of her parents. The memories are fuzzy, but she tries to remember her life before. She remembers loud voices, usually cheerful and boisterous, but sometimes angry. She remembers her father yelling, at the end. She’s older now, and she thinks she understands that he was scared for her, and that thought comforts her a little. Still, she wonders, bitterly, why her parents would be so careless with her life, the lives of her brothers. 

(Because they had been, surely. If they had been more careful, their family wouldn’t have been attacked at all.)

She wonders what her life would have been like if only they hadn’t been all the things she hears they were. Reckless, wild, emotional. She doesn’t remember enough about her old home to know if she would miss it. She thinks she would miss Gemma’s kind words, her patience. 

* * *

She notices, as she grows up, the looks people-- mostly traders passing through the town-- give her. The cringes when her brothers are too loud or too rough in their playing. She hears people tell jokes about those big brutes roaming out beyond civilization. She notices eyes immediately flicker: towards her and quickly away, embarrassed. As she gets older, she gets better at the noticing.

* * *

Gemma is always soft with her, even when Egiss grows taller than she is. Gemma never stops holding her when she cries-- which is much less, now, but still happens more than Egiss would like to admit. Gemma tells her she loves her, that she was blessed with a daughter and two sons, because she wanted children so badly and the gods and everyone knew she was never going to be married. She loves Egiss, even when she’s angry: getting into fights with her brothers, or upset because some village boy was being rude to her cousin or teasing her about her newly-growing tusks, or even when she’s in tears because the poor old barn cat finally gave up the ghost.

“You’re allowed to be upset,” she always says, every bit as soft with Egiss Triel as she was with the snotty, scared half orc child she met over a decade ago. “You don’t have to be the one to hold it together all the time, dear.”

* * *

Egiss’ cousins are hard workers, like her, but they also know how to have fun when the work day is over. In the evenings, the girls will gather in someone’s yard and chat and giggle. Some of them will have a small sewing project, others have notebooks that they draw or write in. Egiss has her little knife and a chunk of wood-- one of her uncles gave them to her. Gemma had been terrified of her cutting herself, because her hands still shake sometimes, but Egiss has only nicked herself once or twice, and the work quiets her mind, and she learns the joy of creating something.

Her girl cousins are pretty, and of course eventually that draws the attention of the other youths of Triel. Never to Egiss, though her cousins keep saying that her eyes are a very pretty green color. Sometimes, when a rare half orc or two comes through the village on their way to Baldur’s Gate, her cousins will exchange a meaningful look with Egiss and giggle that they would be so  _ cute _ together, that one of them has a crush on the other. That’s never what it is, but it’s nice to be part of the teasing.

* * *

The dresses her cousins make for festivals and other formal occasions look so pretty on them. They sometimes bemoan not being able to afford the nicer dresses that girls wear in the city, but Egiss thinks they look beautiful. Gemma makes her dresses, too, but next to them, bulkier and less delicate, she always feels a little out of place.

She wears her hair in a long, dark braid that goes to the small of her back. The girls weave flowers into it one spring morning, and Egiss smiles the rest of the day, only taking the blossoms out when she has to rest her head to go to sleep.

* * *

Egiss grows up strong from farmwork, defending her siblings and her cousins alike from childish taunts and the occasional rude trader traveling through. When she gets old enough, she takes a spot in the informal village watch, since she can at least carry a shield and a weapon, even if she isn’t adept with them. It’s enough to help hold off the stray goblin raid.

One winter though, it’s worse. Money and food have been tight for Triel, but there are whispers that the goblins have been hit hard, too, and are growing desperate. Triel doesn’t have much, but it doesn’t stop the creatures from attacking a weakened target, and this time they’re led by some much bigger, much better-armored goblins.

Egiss stands her ground, holding off one of the big ones from her doorstep, her family ushered inside. The hobgoblin seems convinced that she’s hiding the good stuff just inside, and Egiss raises her shield to clumsily absorb yet another blow, hoping her brothers are clever enough to slip out the back window, like they do to skive off their chores. Other goblins are attacking her fellow villagers, keeping them from coming to her aid, but Egiss holds her own, even taking a few strikes at the hobgoblin when she spots an opening.

But it only takes one mistake, one solid blow to her temple, and she falls to her knee, her shield clattering to the ground. She thrusts, half-blind, at the hobgoblin’s knee, and they stumble a bit, and suddenly an arrow spurts through their throat.

* * *

The Flaming Fist chases off the remainder of the goblins. One of them, holy symbol in hand, even touches her forehead, and a warmth suffuses her, closing the gash in her head. The trained warriors fight the invaders off better than she could have ever hoped to, yet they eye her appraisingly, commending her bravery and her skill. To Egiss’ shock, she is offered a job, more or less. Well, half job, half formal training. But if she does good work, there’s decent pay in it. A small stipend. One less stomach to fill at home.

* * *

Connor is pissed that she’s leaving, vowing that one day, when he’s old enough, he’ll leave for the city, too. Egiss doesn’t doubt it; he’s always done much better in his studies than she has. Irving beams hugely and demands she bring back presents. Gemma is so, so proud, and sends Egiss off with a new set of clothes she worked too hard and spent too much on.

* * *

Baldur’s Gate is huge, and marvelous, and busy, and brutal, and loud, and lonely. There are more half orcs there, and other races too, but Egiss is still very much a stranger in a strange land-- a poor farm girl playing at being a professional warrior. She cuts her hair short, devotes herself to her training. Gets her ass kicked.

But it works; in time, she feels eyes that were once doubtful turn to grudging respect. She works harder. Tries to study the history and language she’s supposed to be learning in addition to the fighting. She doesn’t do much worse than most of the rest, and does quite a bit better than a few, but she’s no genius, and she knows it. She pushes herself twice as hard, determined to prove she’s smarter than a half orc barbarian, more capable than a poor girl from a nowhere town. 

She sends letters home, visits whenever she can. Before too long, she’s made enough to pay for the basic equipment the guild provided her with, and then she can send some extra money, too.

* * *

Some days are tougher than others: days when Egiss’ movements are too erratic, her mind unable to find focus. One of her superiors, Lonell, gives her a look on one of these days, and takes her aside. Egiss, apprehensive, convinced she’s about to be reprimanded, is befuddled when he sits her down in front of a chess board. A nobleman’s game, she thinks dully, but he teaches her the moves and she dutifully begins to memorize them.

Once she learns the game, he teaches her more: how to develop her position in the early game, how to spot certain weaknesses and openings in the middle, how to surround and capture a king with various combinations of pieces in the endgame. 

And in the midst of all this, what he really teaches her, and what she really learns, is to stop. Even when she’s already made a decision, she learns to stop, and wait a moment longer, and analyze. To think, to focus, to be patient. To let herself breathe.

* * *

The city is crowded, but somehow lonely, all the same. She has a little room in one of the Flaming Fist’s living spaces to herself, with a little kitchen shared with five other members. It’s fine, and they’re fine. They all came from Baldur’s Gate, and they knew each other before Egiss arrived, but they’re pleasant enough to her, especially after several months of proving herself. Sometimes, they invite her out to the tavern with them. Sometimes, she even accepts the invitation.

She gets letters from Triel, and sends her own back, with little carvings or candies and whatever extra money she can spare. It’s tiring, she tells them, but she’s making a lot of progress, and more money than she could make back at home.

* * *

She sometimes goes days before realizing she hasn’t talked to anyone outside of training. When this happens, she pushes herself to join her fellow guild members at their favored tavern. A half orc man is there one day, and they speak in Orcish that Egiss has almost forgotten, and it’s the first enjoyable conversation she’s had in months. The sex that follows is less enjoyable, but Egiss figures it’s worth it for the company.

Another time, it’s a human woman staring shamelessly at Egiss’ well-built arms. She hardly looks at Egiss’ face at all, even when it’s just the two of them, but she’s very pretty, and Egiss is flustered and flattered by her interest. It goes even worse than her first time; Egiss feels too big and awkward beside the lithe human woman, whose words are not as gentle as her appearance. She keeps prompting Egiss to be rougher than she wants, and they are both left more than a little bit frustrated, though they depart on cordial terms.

There are a few more times. Not many. Egiss knows she isn’t pretty, even for a half orc, and especially now that she’s cut her hair short. Once, desperately lonely, she pays for companionship, her face dark with embarrassment. That actually does go a little bit better, only once it's done Egiss is still left alone, with no one to talk to or lay beside after, and the whole thing feels a bit pointless. It’s softness that she craves, more than anything, she realizes, and with that, a quiet decision is made to abstain from those sorts of interactions.

* * *

The good thing about training, she thinks dimly, as she is corrected yet again on her sloppy form, is that it has finally beaten the crybaby out of her. Her superiors are harsh, if well-intentioned, and she’s conditioned herself out of letting frustrated tears slip. 

She’s finally been toughened up, she thinks proudly, but she’s disabused of that notion, the day that she has a very odd dream indeed, and Lonell smiles at her, leaning in right before she departs to whisper that she’s one of his best students. Though, she at least manages not to let the grateful tear escape until after she leaves the room, so that must count for something.

* * *

She notices the older human man in the shiny armor giving her dirty looks as they sail to Daggerford, and she ignores it, for the most part, as she has taught herself to do through the years. Straightens her shoulders, stands taller, determined to do her job properly, to prove herself to him, to Lonell, to the owner of every last dubious eye that passes over her.

All the while, the tarot card sits in her pocket, proof that Egiss had unwittingly managed to catch far more dangerous eyes than she could have ever known.


End file.
